Thus passes like the leaves away,
As wither'd and as lost as they.
Beneath the parent roof we meet
In joyous groups, and gaily greet
The golden beams of love and light,
That kindle to the youthful sight.
But soon we part, and one by one,
Like leaves and flowers, the group is
gone.
One gentle spirit seeks the tomb,
His brow yet fresh with childhood's bloom.
Another treads the paths of fame,
And barters peace to win a name.
Another still tempts fortune's wave,
And seeking wealth, secures a grave.
The last grasps yet the brittle thread -
Though friends are gone and joy is dead,
Still dares the dark and fretful tide,
And clutches at its power and pride,
Till suddenly the waters sever,
And like the leaf he sinks forever.

1

The owner of the fountain died;
Neglect soon brought decay;
The bursting pipes were ill-supplied;
The fountain ceased to play.

But still the brook its peaceful course
Continued to pursue;

Her ample, inexhausted source,

From nature's fount she drew.

"Now," said the Brook, "I bless my fate,

My shewy rival gone;
Contented in its native state

My little stream rolls on.

"And all the world has cause, indeed,

To own, with grateful heart,

How much great nature's works excel

The feeble works of art."

MORAL.

Humble usefulness is preferable to idle splendor.

MAKING RESOLUTIONS.

NEVER form a resolution, that is not a good one and when once formed, never break it. If you form a resolution, and then break it, you set yourself a bad example, and you are very likely to follow it. A person may get the habit of breaking his resolutions; this is as bad to the character and mind, as an incurable disease to the body. No person can become great, but by keeping his resolutions; no person ever escaped contempt, who could not keep them. If any of my young friends resolve to read this book through, as proposed in the introduction, I hope they will not fail to do so, unless they have good reasons for it.

"I may well of my father's great courage be proud; Wherever he came,

Flock, shepherd, or dame,

All trembled, and fled at the sound of his name.

Did any one spy

My papa coming by,

Two hundred or more,-Oh! he made them all fly! One day, by a blow,

He was conquer'd, I know;

But no wonder at last he should yield to a foe:

He yielded, poor fellow!

The conquering bellow

Resounds in my ears as my poor father's knell - Oh! "
A fox then replied,

While, leering aside,

He laugh'd at his folly and vaporing pride: "My chattering youth,

Your nonsense forsooth,

Is more like a funeral sermon than truth-
Let history tell

How your old father fell;

And see if the narrative sounds as well.

Your folly surpasses,

Of monkeys all classes;

The beasts which he frighten'd or conquer'd, were asses;
Except a few sheep,

When the shepherd asleep,

The dog by his side for safety did keep.
Your father fell back,

Knock'd down by a whack

From the very first bull that he dared to attack –
Away he'd have scour'd,

But soon overpower'd,

He lived like a thief, and he died like a coward."

TO MY COUSIN ANNE,

ON RECEIVING FROM HER A NET WORK PURSE MADE BY

HERSELF.

My gentle Anne, whom heretofore,

When I was young, and thou no more

Than plaything for a nurse,

I danced and fondled on my knee,

A kitten both in size and glee,

I thank thee for my purse.